"And Each Time They Made Their Way And The World Had Dropped Them For A While To A Peaceful Hiding Place, It Would Again Seize Them With A Burning One Of Its Million Hands, And The Struggle Would Begin Again and Again And Go On And On And Never Finish."

Ok, so I ready Owls Do Cry all the way through. Beginning to end. And I was engaged. And it was a great book. But I felt like it was one that I didn't quite understand. One that would have benefitted from discussing with someone else while I was reading it or discussing during a literature class or something. Because the language and descriptions felt so veiled and complex. Like it was a secret way of communicating that I wasn't a part of (like poetry that I don't get). And I'm not referring to just the section of the book that was told from the perspective of Daphne who was institutionalized, presumably with schizophrenia or some other form of mental disorder. That section was particularly difficult for me, but I still fully understand the intent and the disjointedness of the state of mind related to the disjointedness of the writing. 

Owls Do Cry tells the story of the Withers family and their 4 children, Francie, Toby, Chicks, and Daphne who grew up poor in a small town in New Zealand in the 19402. The children spend their free time in the town dump where other peoples' discards are their treasures. There is so much heart to the coming-of-age parts of the early section of the novel, and how the kids navigate growing independence, needing to support their family, and their place in the community. In a freak accident at the dump, Francie tumbles into the garbage fire and loses her life. The second portion of the book takes place 20 years later as the remaining 3 children have tried to exist after this devastating experience as well as the difficulties of their upbringing. Daphne in particular is institutionalized for mental illness and again, while this section was difficult for me to understand all of the intended nuances, there were some wonderful nuggets of insight about the circumstances she found herself in. 

Would I say it's one of my favorite books I've ever read? Probably not. But I acknowledge and respect the way in which it was told. Each child's voice and perspective are all very individual and all have such different reactions and paths to the challenges they experienced when they were younger, it's hard not to read it and feel some kind of way.

Next up, I'm taking a pause in the lists to read Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr. I haven't read All the Light We Cannot See, but I'll probably have to add that to my (continually expanding) list. I got sucked into the 50% off hardcover sale at Barnes and Nobel just after Christmas and went a little crazy with some gift cards. Looking forward to this one. 

194 to go.   

"No One But Yourself Bothers To Make A Collection Of Disasters. For The Time Being You Are The Hero Or The Villain Of The Thing That Is Uppermost In The Minds Of Your Friends And Acquaintances."

When I was only a short way through Appointment in Samarra, I was quite puzzled about why this book hasn't risen to the level of literary hype as The Great Gatsby. It has many of the same elements and has a very similar feel to the book. And while I haven't read The Great Gatsby in a long time, I felt myself already gravitating to this book more. Steeped in the wealthy, young adults of the 1920s, fueled with odious amounts of bootlegged liquor, there was almost a dark, cynical side to the characters motives and actions. But it all felt like a less romanticized version of elites in the 1920s and had a more modern feel (especially with regards to the portrayal of the women...they were much more interested in sex and this was written about so frankly, it felt pretty surprising. And I wonder if it was a bit shocking for the time).

Appointment in Samarra tells the story of Julian English and his wife Caroline, who attend an elite social event at their club just before Christmas in the small town of Gibbsville, Pennsylvania. And in a somewhat irrational moment of annoyance and ennui, Julian throws a drink in the face of a fellow club-member, Harry Reid. From there, he spends the remainder of the book attempting to make amends to Harry, his wife, his family, and their friends, and when it is not well-received, Julian doubles-down on his bad behavior, bringing about his own self-destruction.

It has all of the elements of a lush novel detailing the lives of the wealthy socialites of this time period: descriptions of particular social norms around party hostessing and marrying well, SO much talk about new automobiles (I mean, part of this is because Julian owns a car dealership, but so much space devoted to every detail about cars), gangsters, liquor, etc. It grounded the setting of the book and made it very visual and distinct. And made Julian's actions, particularly in the end, feel much more reasonable - all of the social climbing, and money, and infidelity very much drove his (and all of the characters') behavior. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed this book, and even now thinking about it a bit later, it feels like the kind of book I would very much want to pick up and read again. 

Up next, Owls Do Cry by Janet Frame. I have zero idea what this book is about which makes it an interesting surprise! 

195 to go.    

"God Was Everywhere, Terrible, The Living God; And So High, The Song Said, You Couldn't Get Over Him; So Low You Couldn't Get Under Him; So Wide You Couldn't Get Around Him; But Must Come In At The Door."

We watched I Am Not Your Negro on Netflix not that long ago, which is a documentary/essay of sorts based on an unfinished book by James Baldwin about race relations. I enjoyed it very much and remember looking forward to reading Go Tell It on the Mountain, which is included on two of my reading lists, to see how Baldwin's visual words that I had seen spoken would translate to the written word. And within the first few pages it was evident that Baldwin had a remarkable way of communicating large concepts in a lovely, interesting, and dynamic way. 

Go Tell It on the Mountain is based on Baldwin's youth growing up in Harlem with his stepfather who was a preacher and abusive to his wife and children. The character in the novel, John Grimes, turns 14 years old and attends a evening prayer service at his stepfather's parish where he experiences salvation, traveling to the depths of his own sin to climb up the mountain, determined to live thenceforth for Jesus. A large majority of the book is spent recounting the histories of his stepfather, mother, and aunt and how their journeys led them to where and who they are and, pervasive throughout every moment, is their relationship with God and their faith. 

It was surprising to me how much of the book was about the virtues of God and religion. In fact, there isn't that much activity/action that occurs throughout the course of the novel. The vast majority of it details the sermons, the struggle, the salvation, the way life should be led in the path of God. And it wasn't in an ironic way. It didn't seem to be critical of it. But the character of John struggles so mightily with trying to live with faith but that is in conflict with his own intelligence and trying to fight against the pervasiveness of sin that is in every single fragment of the world. And John struggles with despising his stepfather for his physical abuse on the one hand, and trying to love God (and his stepfather) on the other hand. I guess I found it surprising that John eventually is "saved" and moves forward choosing to follow in the path of his stepfather and mother, and embrace Jesus, knowing that Baldwin was ultimately not a religious person. So it's interesting to me that Baldwin wrote the book later in life and didn't eschew religion, but had his character of John embrace it. That the book wasn't written through the lens of someone who no longer embraced the faith that the character so strongly ascribes to.

Next up is Appointment in Samarra by John O'Hara. In reading the first couple chapters already, it already feels like it's going to feel a lot like The Great Gatsby but with a bit of a more sardonic feel. 

2021 ended up being quite a banner year for me for reading. I don't know what crawled up my ass and had me reading as much as I did, but I read more books this year than I can ever remember (a total of 20 books). I think part of it was joining Goodreads, which provides me with a great amount of satisfaction to see and track the accomplishment of finishing books. But mostly I just found a lot of joy this year from reading good stories. And not all of them were always great. But I read enough really great ones to make me want to continue to seek out things that move me. So on to 2022 where I'm sure I'll continue on this trend. Because I have a giant stack of "to read" books on my bookshelf and a lot of motivation to keep enjoying excellent stories. 

196 to go.